The Song of the Ainúr
by Niliathiel
Summary: An attempt to put the creation myth of Tolkien s world into poetry form.


**Disclaimer: **_This is a retelling of a part of J.R. ´s work in poetry form, thus of course the "plot" is all his. I am just borrowing it for my scribbling pleasure. _

**Author´s note:** _It´s been a while since I tried my hand at poetry and this was written rather quickly, maybe in the course of about 45 minutes, so I am not sure it´s my best, but I felt inspired._

_A bit of background for the non-hardcore nerds: This is a poetry version of the first piece of Middle Earth Chronology so to say: the Ainulindale, basically, Tolkien´s creation myth._

_Tolkien imagines the creation of Middle earth as something that started in nothing until God, called Illuvatar in the Silmarillion created the Ainúr, Children of his thoughts that sang into being everything that is. They basically keep singing to his praise, all but one that later becomes known as Melkor. Melkor, envious of Illúvatar´s ability to create life, tries to sing an own creation and rises in discord against the other Ainur three times and three times Illúvatar stops the singing and calms the discord, getting more and more mad at that one stray guy every time. ;) In the end, Melkor is silenced, Middle earth appears as the product of the Ainúr´s song and some of them go down into the world to fill it with all kinds of thing such as stars, winds, animals and plants. Melkor, the Ainúr who tried to ruin the song three times ;) become the main antagonist of the Silmarillion. Sauron, the bad guy in the Lord of the Rings was basically a smaller minion of his._

_I am trying to capture some of the magic those few pages of the SIlmarillion have always held for me. My outset is to see this through the eyes of a lucid dreamer who watches what never happened._

_In case you have never read those few pages of Tolkien´s, do it. It´s well worth it._

_**THE GREAT MUSIC OF THE AINÚR**_

In our times where wonders lie

beyond a veil of louder things

most people easily pass by

an ancient tale true silence brings.

This tale, it never came to pass

in our human world and sphere

but elsewhere here it did, alas.

My dreams take me away from here.

In darkness do I find my mind

but not an evil darkness. Still

no light, but sounds and well entwined

with these an omnipotent will

that guards and guides each whispered voice

throughout the nothing, endless space.

A world bereft of modern noise,

a world before the human race.

A presence here and everywhere

creating, binding, calling wide

the voices out from neverwhere

so that they came to Him by night

And all to praise Him did they sing

in melodies so manifold.

So old yet young, each voice did bring

ideas of life forth from the cold.

In unison then did they hail,

dang into being things from dark

from voids and pits made light prevail

the One enspiring their spark.

And He was pleased to hear their song

So loud and clear, a harmony.

Each note, each melody so strong

as never such again will be.

The Ainúr in endless peace

sang till a discord fought their calm

and shrill notes made their singing cease

until the Great One´s raiséd palm

demanded silence to it all.

With solemn calm the One did speak

and made the voice of discord fall

so none another discord seeks.

Another melody once more

the Ainúr began to sing.

And from the darkened space they bore

ideas of light and song and spring

But one of them had none of those,

wanted an own song. Not in praise

but for himself, so he arose

again before the rise of days,

destroying harmony again,

some joining him, confused and weak.

And they sang shrill and harsh, but then

The One again, rebuked the meek.

His face this time looked troubled and

the kindness was no longer there.

And back to harmony he sent

discordant voices everywhere.

So all of them once more would sing

to His praise only, and create

A new world, a new dawn and bring

a world for kingdom and for state

for distant future, yet in thought

In blissful music of that day

all history already wrought

Each Ainúr then had their say.

For one they were, yet many still,

creating one thing at a time.

None comprehending all His will

but seeking harmony and rhyme.

The third song more of song and grace

and beauty like no one before

in voids and darkness, ere the days.

But once more someone´s discord bore

the will to tamper, to destroy

the harmony of many things.

Rose up a third time to employ

own wills, but weak, for no one brings

forth life and light like does the One

who then designed within this song

all things that once were to be done,

all souls and hearts. He´s never wrong.

That third time angered then His mind.

He rose in wrath, grim to behold,

silenced the rebel and the blind

that would not do as they were told.

Yet since that day and since that night

the one that rose in discord thrice

Has been the other´s constant fight,

wand´ring the earth in dark disguise,

Envy for Him a constant pain.

The Dark One can´t create at will,

seeking the Flame of Life in vain

and yet he tries creation still.

Abominations in the dark

that torment earth and soil and land.

Creatures of darkness with no spark.

But he, named Melkor, has been banned.

Away from grace, from joy and light

where all his brethren did set out

he´s building strongholds in the night

In caverns deep and smithies loud.

Prepares for war against His kin

Both human and the Elven race

This Dark One, Melkor, fell to sin

so long ago, ere rise of days.


End file.
